Chapter Eight
~ Mishka ~
I stumbled as Yuri's meaty hand propelled me forward into the basement, his fingers digging into my upper arm like he expected me to bolt at any second.
Not that I could blame him. If I'd had any decent escape options, I absolutely would have taken them rather than follow the Watchdog into the bowels of Nicolai's operation.
But when a bear shifter the size of a refrigerator decides you're going somewhere, arguing tends to be counterproductive.
"Watch your step," he growled, which would have been almost considerate if he hadn't simultaneously shoved me toward the concrete stairs.
Thanks for nothing, Cuddly Bear.
The basement was exactly what you'd expect from a criminal organization's headquarters—all concrete, exposed cables, and the persistent hum of server fans that never quite faded into the background.
The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting everyone in that sickly pallor that made even Yuri look more corpse than man. The temperature dropped at least ten degrees compared to the main floor and I suppressed a shiver.
Not that I'd give Yuri the satisfaction.
"Nice dungeon you've got here. Very 'evil lair chic.' Do you do torture Tuesdays or is that more of a weekend activity?"
Yuri's scowl deepened to what I was starting to think of as Level Seven. "This isn't a joke, human."
"Everything's a joke if your sense of humor is dark enough," I muttered.
He ignored me, stalking across the room to a wall of equipment. His massive frame cast long shadows across the concrete floor as he pointed to a security panel with its faceplate hanging off.
"This," he said, jabbing a finger at the panel, "was functional yesterday."
I raised my eyebrows. "And?"
"And now it's not." He moved to a row of monitors, some displaying static, others completely dark. "These CCTV routers. Dead." Then to a doorway with a mangled card reader. "This access control system. Destroyed."
I bit my lip to keep from laughing. Last night's activities with Nicolai had been...energetic. Apparently, when a bear shifter turns you on, the electrical systems around you tend to suffer.
"So sorry about that. When mind-blowing sex causes actual electrical blowouts, is that covered by your insurance?" I couldn't resist asking, watching Yuri's face contort in disgust.
"Fix it," he commanded.
"What, no please? And here I thought Russians were supposed to be polite."
Yuri crossed his arms, feet planted firmly apart. "The boss wants it fixed. You can either do it willingly or I can make you do it. Your choice."
I sighed dramatically. "Well, when you put it that way..."
I approached the security panel first, running my fingers along its damaged surface. The electronic pulse of the system was weak but still there, like a fading heartbeat.
I closed my eyes, letting my mind merge with the circuitry. Most people thought of electronics as cold, logical things, but to me, they had personality. This system was old, stubborn, but solid. Like Yuri, actually.
Amusing comparison.
"Hand me that screwdriver," I said, holding out my palm without looking up.
A moment later, the weight of the tool slapped against my hand. I pried open the damaged panel, exposing the tangle of wires inside. This was child's play.
I reconnected a few loose connections, rerouted power through an alternative pathway, and with a gentle pulse from my fingertips, coaxed the system back to life. The panel lit up, status lights blinking from red to green.
"That was the easy one," I said, moving to the CCTV routers.
These were more challenging, but nothing I couldn't handle. I traced connections with my fingertips, feeling the flow of data like water through pipes, identifying blockages and redirecting traffic.
Each touch sent small sparks dancing across my skin—not enough to hurt, just enough to feel alive. I could fix these systems in my sleep, but where was the fun in that?
Instead, I made a show of it. I typed furiously on keyboards, whispered dramatically to circuit boards, and even blew a kiss to a particularly stubborn server that finally rebooted after my third attempt.
"Do you always perform for an audience?" Yuri asked dryly.
"Only when they're as appreciative as you," I replied without looking up.
I saved the card reader for last because it was genuinely damaged—the electromagnetic pulse that had escaped my control during a particularly intense moment with Nicolai had fried its internal components. This one would require more than a quick fix; it needed a complete rebuild.
"This one's properly fucked," I announced, pulling the reader from the wall and exposing the charred wiring behind it. "Got any spares?"
Yuri disappeared into a supply closet and returned with an outdated model that looked like it belonged in a museum rather than a high-security criminal headquarters.
"Seriously? This thing is ancient."
"It works," Yuri grunted.
"Barely," I countered. "Give me twenty minutes and I'll do better than 'works.'"
I dismantled both readers, salvaging usable parts from the damaged one and combining them with the outdated spare.
My fingers worked quickly, rewiring circuits, adjusting connections, and upgrading components on the fly.
This was where my abilities truly shined—not just fixing but improving, creating something better from the wreckage.
As I worked, I could feel Yuri watching me. His massive form hadn't moved, but the quality of his silence had changed. When I glanced up, his eyes were wider, his arms no longer quite so tightly crossed.
"What's wrong, Watchdog? Impressed?" I smirked, holding up the newly constructed reader that now featured an enhanced security protocol and faster response time.
Yuri didn't answer, but his silence was telling enough.
I installed the new reader, programming it to interface seamlessly with the existing system. With a final touch, I sent a surge of energy through the device, bringing it online with capabilities far beyond its original design.
"There," I said, stepping back to admire my work. "Now you've got top-of-the-line security that would cost you thousands on the open market. You're welcome."
"You can do all that... just by touching it?" Yuri finally asked, his voice quieter than I'd heard it before.
"Among other things," I said with a wink that made him frown again.
"The boss didn't mention this... extent of your abilities."
I shrugged. "Maybe he wanted to surprise you. Or maybe he knows how to keep his cards close to his chest, unlike some people." I looked pointedly at Yuri's face, which was now an open book of reluctant amazement.
He quickly schooled his features back into his default scowl. "Are you finished showing off?"
"For now," I replied cheerfully. "But the night is young and I'm just getting started."
The look of alarm that flashed across Yuri's face was almost worth the trip to the basement.
Almost.
I wiped my hands on my lounge pants after finishing the last of the obvious repairs. The basement's chill was seeping into my bones, but I wasn't about to ask Yuri for a sweater.
I'd rather freeze than give him the satisfaction.
Instead, I leaned against a humming server rack, letting its warmth radiate against my back as I studied the security chief's rigid posture. The big question wasn't if their security sucked—I already knew it did—but rather how much they realized it sucked.
"So, Watchdog," I said casually, "what keeps you up at night? Security-wise, I mean."
Yuri's head snapped toward me, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. The question had clearly caught him off-guard. His massive frame tensed, and for a second, I thought he might actually growl at me.
"Why do you ask?" His voice rumbled from somewhere deep in his chest.
I shrugged. "Professional curiosity. I'm stuck in your basement anyway, might as well make myself useful."
And figure out all your weak points in case I need to escape later.
Yuri stood silent for so long I thought he might have turned into a statue. His eyes never left mine, like he was trying to read my thoughts through sheer intimidation. I'd faced worse stares from scarier people. I just raised an eyebrow and waited.
Finally, he exhaled heavily. "Physical breaches at the service entrance. Network intrusions through the restaurant's public Wi-Fi." He paused, then reluctantly added, "And coordinated attacks that might target both simultaneously."
I couldn't help myself. I snorted. "Amateur hour."
His eyes flashed dangerously. "Excuse me?"
"Your concerns," I clarified, pushing myself away from the server rack and dramatically cracking my knuckles.
"They're like worrying about someone picking your front door lock while you've got open windows and a glass back door.
" I gestured at the mess of cables and servers around us.
"Watch and learn, Watchdog. I'm about to rock your world. "
Without waiting for permission, I slid into the chair at the main terminal and my fingers flew over the keyboard. The system architecture unfolded before me like a familiar neighborhood—poorly designed, with dangerous shortcuts and blind alleys everywhere.
"Your network segmentation is a joke," I muttered, pulling up command prompts and configuration files. "You've got your security cameras on the same subnet as your financial data. Might as well put a welcome mat out for hackers."
Yuri moved closer, his massive shadow falling over my workspace. "What are you doing?"
"Saving your furry ass," I replied without looking up. "First, proper VLAN segregation."
Over the next hour, I transformed their digital infrastructure. My fingers danced across multiple keyboards, occasionally touching hardware directly when I needed to feel the electrical pathways more intimately.
I rerouted connections, established unbreakable firewall rules, patched vulnerable code, and installed custom encryption protocols that would make government agencies weep with envy.